Sunday, January 30, 2005

Firestorm Day

It's your wedding day, yes, but your job is to put out forest fires and wedding or no wedding, you're gonna go drop water out of a plane.

Your bride wants you to stay. "Don't go," she says. "You'll die and we won't even be married yet."

Tell her that you have no choice.

"Why on Earth did you ever take such an insane job anyway?" she asks. "It's not like it's even all that brave. You're just dropping water out of planes."

"It is brave."

"No it's not," she says. "You don't have to get that close to the fire when you drop the water. Aside from being able to watch shit burn from up high, the job really sounds kind of boring."

"Fuck you," tell her.

"No, seriously," she won't let it go. "Doesn't it start to feel really routine, just flying over a lake and collecting the water, then flying over the forest and dropping the water, then flying over the lake and collecting the water again? I'm bored just thinking about it."

"Why are you marrying me if you think I'm so boring?" ask her.

"Because you're hot," she says. "And anyway, I'm probably not marrying you since you're rushing off from our wedding to fly over a forest fire and die. And I never said you were boring. I said your job sucks."

Say, "Wait, if you think I'm going to die out there, how can my job be boring? It would have to be pretty dangerous if I could die, right?"

"You can die washing dishes in a restaurant if you slip in the right puddle," she says. "You'll fuck up is all. Do something stupid probably."

Say, "Jesus."

"Stay. Marry me."

Tell her you have to go because even though your dad died twenty years ago you're still trying to prove something to him.